


Snack Cake

by jenna_thorn



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Team Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 08:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1811995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenna_thorn/pseuds/jenna_thorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony burst through the open doorway into the common room.“I need a Zinger.”</p><p>“That’s what she said,” Clint said from the sofa without opening his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snack Cake

Tony burst through the open doorway into the common room.“I need a Zinger.”

“That’s what she said,” Clint said from the sofa without opening his eyes. Natasha, sprawled over him, gave him a halfhearted kick to the thigh with her heel.

Tony and Steve both blinked at them. “What? No, not a punchline, that was a bad one, by the way, a Zinger – No! A Twinkie. Not a Zinger.”

“Yeah, cause “twink” would make it ‘what _he_ said,’" Clint muttered as he pulled himself from under Natasha, blocking her second desultory kick automatically.

“And a Tastykake.”

Bruce rubbed his forehead, just over his glasses.“Tony, I don’t –“

“And a knife!”

“That, we can provide,” Steve said, as he pulled a folding knife from his back pocket. He put it on the end table between them, then caught the slim black matte blade that flew at him. “Thanks.”

“I now have two knives and no cakes. There’s a metaphor for my life in there somewhere,” Tony said as Steve carefully set the throwing knife on the table.

“Don’t strain anything,” Bruce said. “Plus, now you have a Twinkie. And a Tastykake,” he added as the second landed on the table from six feet away, skidding only slightly. Clint loomed over Natasha and stared at her until she deigned to lift her feet again for him to sit. 

Tony pulled open both plastic wrappers hastily, spreading them flat.“Okay, I’m going to slice these –“

“Not with my knife!” Steve pulled his still closed pocket knife from Tony’s hand. “Sticky.”

Tony lifted the other and looked to Natasha. She shrugged. “So long as you clean it.”

Bruce had progressed from rubbing his eyebrows to sitting with his face in his hands. “Yeah, Tony, priorities.”

“Here,” Tony waved a slice of crumbling sponge cake at Steve. “Taste this.”

Steve looked to Bruce, who still had his face in his hands, to Natasha, who was studiously reading, and to Clint, who was staring out the window with the intensity of someone searching for answers to the universe. Tony waved the mess in his hand at him. Steve sighed and opened his mouth. 

He chewed, though smooshed would be more accurate, and swallowed. “That’s really … sweet,” he said while Tony chased him with a slice of the other. “Tony wha-“ faced with biting Tony or taking the second slice, Steve let Tony feed him. He swallowed convulsively. Those were … odd. Not pleasant. Why him?

“Your point, Tony?”

“Epitaxial layering.”

Steve made the rounds of eye contact again, but this time, everyone was staring at Tony who gazed up at Steve with expectation in his eyes. “Okay,” Steve said. “Epitaxial layering.” 

“Right! Separate isn’t equal. Got it?” 

“Brown and the Kansas Board of Education,” Clint said.

“Civil Unions as opposed to marriage.” Natasha turned a page in her book.

“Snack cakes?” Steve asked.

“No, no, that’s an analogy. Or a metaphor. Simile? Something. Bruce, you explain, I’m going to go make poisonous elements roller skate at the atomic level.” Tony popped the rest of the Twinkie into his mouth and Steve stared at the remainder. 

“I really hate to waste food,” he started. Clint said, “Pass it here,” while Natasha said, “An argument could be made for it not being food.”

He folded the wrapper and handed the whole mess to Clint, who somehow made even the crumbs disappear without making noise. Steve rubbed his finger on the knife, smearing crème filling. “How do I get the oil off?”

“My blade?” Natasha asked.

“My tongue,” Steve answered.

Bruce snickered and said, “Coffee works better than water,” as he left the room, following Tony.


End file.
